Snow Day
by atomish
Summary: In which France and England attempts to share some quality time with their favourite 'sons' but neither America or Canada buys it. Some coffee, snow and ice cream helps though. A birthday fic for the wonderful YouMakeMyHeartJiggleLikeJello 3


**A/N:** OKAY, finally done and this is not late for the amazing, amazing **YouMakeMyHeartJiggleLikeJello**'s birthday because it's still in her time zone ;D So, Happy, Happy Birthday and I hope you like this nonsense at least somewhat xDD And sorry for the lateness OTL Love you a lot, a lot, a lot! ~:

**Warnings:** Possibly uber awkward sentences and words xDD (argh, conversations are SO hard OTL), inappropriate mood shifts, food stereotypes (which I don't mean to be offensive about :) and the likes : P By the way, if anyone sees any mistakes, feel free to tell me because it's late and I can only read it so many times xDD

**Disclaimers**_**:**_ I don't own anything remotely familiar, including the characters from Axis Powers Hetalia, Tim Horton's and their drinks and food products, Cold Stone's and their ice cream (which is seriously awesome), the Vancouver Olympic Games or their official merchandise, lyrics from Matt Pond's _Snow__ Day_ (which is, ironically from a Starbucks commercial which I also don't own) and etc.

Hope you enjoy this bit of…something xDD I had fun writing and once again, Happy Birthday~3

**Snow Day**

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Matthew said meekly, once more trying to stall the excited American from entering the Tim Horton's.

"But you love Timmy's!" Alfred argued, stopping his skipping for a moment to whirl around on a patch of ice and the Canadian would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that the other hadn't fell flat on his face yet with all the wet slush on the ground from last night's wet snowfall.

"No, not the _place_," Matthew said, shaking his head and idly watching the other swing his arms around excitedly. "It's just, I mean, it's just that's it's _England_. And _France_. And then there's _you_ and what are we even _doing_?"

"Oh geez Mattie," Alfred laughed, loud and full of the sunshine that seemed to have been hidden from them that morning. "Have a little faith, will ya? I know we've all got less than perfect relationships with each other but at least we're not clawing at each other's throats yet."

"I beg to differ on that," The Canadian said dryly, shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his red hoodie.

"Okay but that's only because it's England and France. _Together_." Alfred seemed to shudder and Matthew wasn't sure whether it was the thought of their former 'father figures' or the steadily dropping temperature. "But _I__'__m_ here, right?" The star-spangled man grinned brightly, sidling up to Matthew's side until he swore their arms merged together. "Don't _I_ count, too?"

Canada gave him a long skeptical look and America pouted painfully and the Canadian caved quickly.

"Dork," Matthew broke out into a large smile that infectiously spread onto the other's face and he was promptly tackled, letting out a soft 'oof' as he suddenly found himself with an armful of a warm American.

"Love you too, bro," Alfred winked, nuzzling the white knitted scarf Matthew was wearing. "Mmm, you're so _warm_. And you're only wearing a hoodie!"

"Al, get off, people are staring," The Canadian squirmed as his shirt was prodded and poked, chuckling slightly at the other's childish fascination. "A sweater is a sweater is a sweater. And if you're cold, then we better get inside, eh?"

A happy smile bloomed on Alfred's flushed cheeks and he quickly grabbed the official Vancouver Games gloved hand, dragging the other blonde inside.

"The faster we get this over with, the faster I can go back to playing that new video game that came out last week," Alfred chirped, briskly walking across the wet tarmac. "Plus, I'm _really_ craving a good latte at the moment."

Entering the Tim Horton's, their glasses immediately fogged up causing a shared eye roll between them. Matthew glanced over the rim of his to peer blurrily around the decently crowded café, watching people hunched over their phones, shuffling while they waited in line.

"Over there, Mattie," Alfred tugged on his sleeve, having been too impatient and already wiped his glasses cleaned with the sleeve of his brown pea coat. He gestured over to a small table in the corner where a certain British man and Frenchman were glaring haughtily at each other over their steaming cups of coffee. Both regular, Matthew noted as he and Alfred made their way around the multiple tables, most of which were unoccupied.

"Hey guys," The American chirped brightly, tinged with a hint of falseness as he rounded England, tapping playfully on one shoulder before ducking on to the other side of the man and taking a seat.

"Good morning," Canada said quietly, gingerly sitting down on the chair from across America, nodding at France who was regarding the fuming Brit dully.

"Why you…" England gritted his teeth as he glowered at the smug American who was already peeling off his leather gloves. "Brat."

"So what's the occasion?" Alfred shrugged, pointedly ignoring the other and instead grabbed the British man's coffee and took a long swig. "Boring." He remarked, wrinkling his nose as he peered into the cup.

"Then don't bloody drink it!" Arthur snapped, snatching the drink back possessively. "Get your own, twat."

"Gentlemanly as always," Francis drawled sarcastically, sipping up the last of his own and sighing at the taste.

"Belt up," Arthur scowled and downed his coffee as Alfred rolled his eyes, toying with the triangular menu holder.

"I want a BLT and chili and a Boston Cream donut," The American recited, pointing at each item on the list. "Wait, make that two Boston Creams."

"That is disgusting," The Brit sniffed indignantly. "It's nine in the morning and you're already stuffing yourself like a pig."

"Well, excuse me for needing to eat," Alfred retorted, slightly peeved at having his breakfast ruined. "You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"Yes, and people live off of more than just burnt scones and fairy cakes," Francis added with a smirk. "People need to eat _quality__foods_ and not whatever you make."

"I'll have you know that I make perfectly good English breakfasts!" The British man stammered, face red as he gritted his teeth. "Just because something is a little charred around the edges, it won't kill you."

"_Actually_," Canada coughed quietly, glancing at the oblivious American who had already returned to skimming the menu. "Anyway, how about we all go order some food, eh?" He said, bursting with fake cheerfulness. Three pairs of eyes immediately looked at him oddly and the Canadian shrunk back in his seat. "On second thought…"

"Mocha latte!" Alfred suddenly shouted with a large grin. "I want that. With extra whipped cream."

"And that's why you're so bloody pudgy," Arthur piped in, feigning innocence as Alfred grew offended.

"Says the one with English breakfasts and fish and chips," Francis pointed out with a nasty smirk.

"And who's the one with éclairs and crème brûlée?" Arthur returned, a shit-eating grin upon his face as he leaned over the table, their sharp noses nearly touching.

"Is this some sort of weird food kink or something?" The American rolled his eyes. "Why don't you both shut up so I can eat?"

"Again with the eating!" Francis turned on him, a frown in place. "I completely blame Arthur's terrible cooking skills. He's ruined your taste for life! No wonder you are constantly eating."

"Bugger off! You don't know a bloody thing about my cooking—"

"Only that it's absolutely horrifying!"

"And how do you know when you eat bleeding _frogs_and _snails_?"

"_Escargots_," Francis sighed dramatically. "Clearly your monstrous eyebrows are preventing you from comprehending what _fine__cuisine_ is."

"Don't you bloody dare bring my eyebrows into this, you daft 'apeth!"

"On the topic of eyebrows," Alfred interrupted, a slight whine to his tone. "Can we just eat so I can go home and play my video game?"

"Can't you tell we're trying to spend quality time together?" Arthur snapped, slamming down his cup so the paper bottom dented inwards.

"We _are_ trying," Francis nodded with a scowl.

Matthew and Alfred shared a look through the two Europeans before promptly bursting out into laughter.

"Yeah," The American said through a fit of giggles, wiping a tear beneath his glasses. "Quality time I see we're having here."

"Because this is what I call a perfect family moment, eh?" Matthew stifled another laugh as both Europeans sent a disapproving glare his way. "I'm sorry, but seriously. This is not what I expected from you guys so I'm just going to go order. You guys want anything?"

There was a short pause of silence from the two brooding men that made Matthew feel a pang of guilt before he decided that they didn't mean it at all. After all, they were nations first before they were human which made family ties all a lie.

And they all knew that for a fact. They had history to back that one up.

"A cup of tea would be nice," England said stiffly, tracing his finger on the pattern of the table.

"I suppose I could try a French vanilla cappuccino," Francis shrugged, suddenly not as antagonistic as before.

"I'll come!" Alfred hopped up enthusiastically, upsetting both nations' empty cups.

The two North American brothers hurried away, leaving the awkward atmosphere behind quickly in favour of the long line-up across the store.

The two former Empires stayed unmoving, not feeling the need to insult the other for once and instead, allowed a quiet calm to settle over them.

"They don't understand," England began, large brows furrowing in confusion as he stared past Francis's golden hair to the two blonds huddling over a cell phone at the end of the queue.

"They're young," France explained, cutting the other off with which he was awarded a large frown for. "Wait a couple more centuries and they'll be more like us."

"Like old Empires? America's already got a head start on that," He said bitterly. Francis merely laughed matter-of-factly.

"You raised him," He shrugged. England shot him a sharp glance that told him not to bring this point up again; this was not the time or place to. France lazily raised his hands up in mock defence before continuing. "You raised Canada as well."

"I did, didn't I?" Arthur smiled gratefully and Francis nearly said something nasty but managed to hold his tongue because he knew Arthur tried. He himself did as well, even if neither Matthew nor Alfred realized it.

From across the store, Matthew and Alfred narrowed their eyes at the two older nations suspiciously.

"They're not yelling," The Canadian said slowly.

"Or clawing at each other's throats," Alfred piped in, disbelief glimmering in his eyes. "You don't think that they just confessed their undying love to each other, did they?"

Matthew delivered a swift blow to the other's arms, earning him a large pout and a sulking American.

"Don't say such weird things," He gave Alfred a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to Arthur and Francis who were still keeping their hands to themselves. "This is England and France we're talking about here."

"Mattie, Mattie, Mattie," Alfred chided with a waggle of his finger, flicking the other's sharp nose at the end as the other stared at him in confusion. "You don't get it, do you? They're upset about us not thinking we're a family—"

"But we're not," Canada insisted. "We're _countries_." He hissed quietly, mindful of the humans around them. "We can't because of our history."

"Like they said, we can try," Alfred shrugged, blue eyes filling up with an emotion the Canadian couldn't identify. "Because as much as we're nations, a part of us is still human, right? Otherwise, we wouldn't be here, right here, right now, would we?"

Matthew chewed his lip because he couldn't help but agree with Alfred despite the _Canada_ part of him telling him otherwise.

"I don't get it either," Alfred admitted with a sheepish grin as he regarded Matthew with an air of maturity that the Canadian never really noticed before. "But, you know, I'm content with where we are. And I guess that's enough for me. Now where's my mocha latte?"

"Hoser," Matthew laughed, screwing up his face as he handed the American the cup from the tray. With their arms ladened with food, they headed back to the quiet table in the corner.

"Took you long enough," Arthur said, fingers already twitchy for his tea.

"Geez, don't get your panties in a knot, Artie," Alfred rolled his eyes before depositing his tray down, wraps and utensils rolling against each other as he took a seat.

"What have you got there, _Mathieu_?" Francis interrupted loudly, just in time to prevent a potential argument between the two.

"Oh, Cold Stone's ice cream," He smiled brightly, holding out the small container of white ice cream drizzled with golden caramel and filled to the brim with a mixture of fudge, brownie and pecans. "It's _awesome_. You guys should really try some."

"Ice cream?" Alfred all but dropped his bowl of chili. "Seriously, Matt, _ice cream_? It's like frikkin' fourteen degrees outside! _And_ it's winter!"

"Really, Matthew, my boy," Arthur said in his 'fatherly' tone, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder as if he were twelve. "You ought to understand—"

"No, _you_ don't understand," The Canadian looked bewildered as he popped a spoonful of the icy goodness inside his mouth. "Winter is the best time to eat ice cream; it won't melt and it'll _stay_ cold. And Al, it's more like one degree _Celsius_."

Alfred pushed his bottom lip out childishly but did not refuse when Matthew held up the bowl up to him, offering the treat with a smile. It took all of three seconds for Alfred to snatch it up and shove half of it into his mouth.

Francis laughed, offering the boy a napkin.

"I suppose ice cream is ice cream, no matter what time of the year,"

"Damn right it—" Matthew began with a grin but was cut off by Alfred's excited cry.

"Snow!" He called, jumping up and leaving his mound of food behind as he scrambled out of his chair. "It's snowing!" His voice was full of childish delight as if this was his first snowfall instead of his who-knows-how-many.

"Al!" Matthew exclaimed in alarm, jumping up as well while grabbing the black gloves the American had failed to remember in his haste to get out of the store. The Canadian was sure the entire place was staring at him but he really didn't care because he already felt a hint of laughter bubble up in his chest. "You forgot your gloves, idiot!"

"Hey! Your scarf, too!" But it was too late and Arthur was already watching through the large windows, forgotten scarf dangling from his fingertips as Francis stood by his side because they were suddenly frozen at the sight the two men, head tilted upwards towards the skies and the biggest smiles on their faces.

"Arthur! Francis!" The clear barrier muffled the voices but the excited waving from the two North Americans weren't blurred in the slightest. In fact, both the Frenchman and the Englishman felt the gesture go straight to their hearts and even the high heating couldn't rival the warmth they felt.

"We're coming, you brats," Arthur pretended to grumble and even Francis couldn't say that he didn't like the smile on the other's face. "We're coming." Their eyes never left the two outside the window, now chasing each other with handfuls of whatever snow they could gather and it felt like the cover of some sort of perfect Christmas card.

"Then let's go, _non_?"

Neither even complained once at the cold flakes that fell over them as they left the warmth, only to find another.

"_When the snow falls, thick and silent, I can only, hear you breathing._"

**Notes:**

**Cold Stone**_**:**_ A creamery that I see a lot with Tim Horton's. They make fantastic ice cream! The one that Matthew/Canada was eating is the Founder's Favourite flavour :

The song only really fits at the end xDD And my gods, writing FACE is hard OTL But here it is and I hope that it brought some sort of happiness/any feelings at all xDD Happy Birthday, once more, love!


End file.
